Gaining Experience

As I mentioned before, my debit card in Naivasha was eaten by Barclay's ATM machine. I thought that I would just call a few people here and there and call it quits. But as I thought about it, I realized that I would have to go back to Naivasha and reclaim my card.

The whole deal was really stressful because It requires a good chunk of money and time. Meghan took me to "town", where we got my cell phone unlocked and got a Kenyan phone number. Then I boarded a slanted matatu all the way to Naivasha. This matatu ride was not only literally crooked, but it was like sketchy crooked as well. The driver kept leaving the matatu vehicle every 20 or so minutes and would have lengthy conversations with the police. Who knows what was going on? And since I have problems with my left hamstring, sitting with all my weight projected at that side was painful.

I got off the matatu and was surprised that nobody came up to hassle me to buy stuff. In fact, other than the ocasional "hello, my sees-ta" and "chinese", I was left alone. The experience was completely different compared to the weekend, where we had MOBS of kenyans coming up to offer us transportation services and such. I just asked around and finally got to the same ATM machine. and guess what? The friggin bank had closed about 15 minutes before I got there!

I knocked on the door, and surprisingly, people were still inside. I begged and begged and begged to let them give my card back. They kept telling me to come back the next day--which at that point I got very upset because I didn't have enough money to stay over night, and I couldn't imagine wastinge more money to return to Nairobi and back the next morning. Not to mention that I had to miss a day of teaching.... But I was surpised to see how kind the bank workers were to some white skinned little kid. Here I was, begging for my plastic debit card back, and they could have just turned me away. Then I remembered that I had Sharon's number, and she called her sister, who works at that exact bank. By 4 PM, I had my card and I was on my way to Nairobi again.

Traveling alone is scary, although I was left alone to a greater degree. The priced offered for a water bottle wasn't even more expensive than what I can get at the shop near Sharon's home. The real scary part was after I boarded the bus 4W to get back home. I was on this huge bus, the ONLY light skinned passenger. It was uncomfortable to have waves of eyes looking at me. There was this grandma who kept looking at me, just straight at me, and muttering to her daughter in Kiswahili. =( I didnt' want to get off past my stop, so I got off when I thought I saw Waynee Road.

I did get off at Waynee Road, but it was actually close to New Franeli! I couldn't believe that I was walking alone, in the dark, at 8 PM, in a slum area. In order to hide my appearnace, I took my black and green jacket, put the hood over my head, and pulled the sleeves over my hands. In hte dark, I must have looked Kenyan enough, because little kids walking past me weren't shouting "How are you?" I got completely lost, and compltely terrified. My shirt was sweated through, and I'm sure my hair looked like I had just showered. Itwas a cold night, but nervousness consumed my heart. I just kept repeating bible verses over and over again. I used my phone, and Meghan eventually found me, about half hour away from home. I had been walking in the complete wrong direction! I have never been so happy to get back home, safe and sound. Thank God!

And today, I haven't been feeling good. I miss my mom's cooking, and I could kill for her spinache-miso soup with tofu, and brown rice. Or a huge salad or something. Just something I'm used to. An apple would be nice. All I've been eating are bananas. But I came home early today because I started getting really really sick.

But while I was there, I had really good time with STandard 7. They gave me an honorary Kenyan name, Karembo, which means beautiful in Swahili. Others were Kangata-person who travels-- and Moderna, which I forgot. But now I'm back at home, well at the internet cafe, and i'm going to spend the rest of teh night finishing up season 1 of Heroes. It's totally not my usual type of show, but I love it! It actually has a Gilmore Girls actor, Milo something, who played Jess Mariano. I'm hooked!

I'm actually half way through with my trip.... time flies!
Becky

Naivasha

Hello everyone.

I've just returned to Nairobi from Naivasha. It's been one hectic trip. As I'd wished, when Meghan returned from Uganda, I immediately started to feel better, and not so alone. She invited me to visit her orphanage/school, and also to the rest of her week end trips. Ultimately, I have decided not to go on the safari tour. I will go on other weekend trips, that won't cost me 110 US dollars a day.

This weekend, I went to Naivasha, which is just about and hour and a half away from Nairobi. We stayed at a camp for really cheap, and went to Hell's Gate. In Hell's Gate National Park, we went down into the gorge, looking for hot springs and to take in the whole thing.

The entire time, I wish that my father could see this place. I remember the first time my family went on vacation. I was 10 years old, complete with my first airplane ride to Niagara Falls. From then on, all our family trips have been about seeing the wonders of nature, to see what we midwest civilians don't get to see.

I traveled in a group of 5, which is ironic because I have always done that with my family. We rode a matatu to Hell's Gate, then rented bikes to ride around. The bikes were very old and rickety. I really missed my bike back from home. I guess it's not the bikes that made the trip hard, but the fact that the roads were of gravel. Well, the gravel bits were actually mini stones the size of of a computer mouse. And when the roads were down hill, I always thought back to the time when I was going down hill on my bike, flew off, and landed on my face.

Nonetheless, I got to see zebras, warhogs, sheep/goats, and other animals during the bike ride. We then got to the center of the park and decided to go on the 3 hr walk. What meant to be a 3 hr walk turned about to be more like 6-7 hours. All of us were extremely tired from the whole thing at the end, and fell asleep by 10 at the latest.

I'm so glad I got to come here, because I got to travel with such a good group of people. Each one of us brings unique experiences and such to the trip atmosphere. I'm thankful that all of the people I traveled with have been here for at least 3-4 weeks longer than I have. Some have been here for 4 months.

Despite the wonderful trip, I got very tired of people trying to people rip us off. Charging double the price just because we are Mzungo's, crowding around us as soon as we arrive to buy yogurt, strawberries, watches, blah blah blah. The entire trip we were hassled and annoyed. What really ticked us off was the ride into Naivasha town this morning. The guys running the matatus kept trying to give us his number or asking for our number. Then he tried taking pictures of us. :sigh: Then we decided to go to Lake Nkuru to see flamingoes and rhinos. But what happened was the ATM machine ate my debit card. This is not a way that I thought I'd lose my debit card! I don't know how I'm going to get any more for the rest of this trip, if I need it.

Nontheless, i'ts been a good weekend, much more exciting than the last one. After this, I'm going to the Maasai Market with Leigh and Christian to get some souvenirs. I'm glad I'm getting to go, and that I got to meet people before they go back home.

Leigh, Becca, and Christian are all leaving next weekend. It's great timing that I got to travel with them. And of course, it's all the more better because Becca lives really close to me. It's definitely a small world.

Becky

First day at New Franeli

At 8:30 AM, a student from New Franeli, Lucky, came and picked me up from Sharon's place. It was a 20-25 min walk to the school. We walked along the dirt roads, dodging chickens, dogs, bikes, and cars. City Hoppas, or city busses, blew exhaust into our faces, a mist of gray gas showering us along with muddy sprinkles. Most of the walk was quiet, me asking Lucky what he wants to be when he grows up, where his family is. Before long, we arrived at an opening at a fence. We are here, Lucky said, and we walked into the opening.

What school? There was no building, or the so called building was a collection of tin sheets held together by nails and a wooden skeleton. I was wondering how children played in such a muddy yard, when I saw a 3 year old dump himself on the ground in an attempt at a cartwheel. He didn't care, he was carefree. A strong stench of feces and more exhaust wafted up my nose, as I was taken into the "office".

In America, principal offices are sacred places. You cannot talk to the principal unless by appointment. They are embellished with a fancy desk with a name place to be distinguishable from the rest of the school staff. This office is no different than the other tin sheet buildings. The office space is no bigger than the desk and chair it had in it, and the only division between the principal and the secretary is two wooden sticks. I was told that this space is just as mine as it is the staffs. Wow.

I was then introduced to all the students in the school. I walked up to the doorway and peeped in. Right away, the students stood up out of respect. There was no light except for the sunlight streaming through the small window. The erasers were made of the same material that fills the foam pit at the Wilmette Park District gymnastics center. It was like those cartoon episodes where the character is in the dark, and the only thing you can see are a pair of eyes. Because the skins of my students were so dark, I just saw a bunch of eyes. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that there were one too many studetns squished at each desk. Their cubbies were nails crudely hammered into the sides of the wooden skeleton. Their backpacks plastic bags instead of the new Barney backpack I had to beg my parents for as a child.

And yet, these kids wanted to learn. They are hungry, hungry for knowledge, to learn as much as they can. In inner city Chicago, there is a big problem with class room morale, and a high drop out rate. Here, I had no problem with that. They were so respectful, participating, despite being shy. I'm trying to piece together how and why these students are so eager to learn. What makes their situation so that they want to be here, not somewhere else?

The principal took me out to the yard and showed me the surroundings of the school. To the right, a slum. To the left, a slum. In front, a slum. These kids had not been going to school, and the principal had the started the school to have a place for the kids to go. He does not get paid to do this. There are only 7 teachers for over 200 students. I want my Standard 8 students to pass the national exam.

I mean, these students don't even have a proper school building. They don't have their own books, they don't hvae lab materials, calculators, or even pencil sharpeners. What makes them so different? They live in possibly poorer situations than in America.

I have more to ponder, but the internet cafe person is locking up, and it's getting dark. They don't call Nairobi, Nairobbery for no reason.

Thank you for all yoru prayers and support. I wish I can phone my family and friends but it is not possible now.

Becky

edit

It's slowly getting easier to teach without the materials I'm used to having. From now on, I'm going to have these permanent classes: Standard 8 Math, Standard 7 Science, and Standard 5 English. The kids are starting to know me, and we even tried playing some games together.

For you IMSA people, I tried teaching them bibbity bibbity bop. It worked wonders with our reflection group and for E2K camps, but these kids just didn't get it! They are so quiet, all the kids barely tried to keep from going inside the circle! And when I tried to advance the game to icnlude "jello", "charlie's angels" and "samurai", they all kept doing the same motion. We just playd the Kenyan version of "duck duck goose" for almost an hour.

Again, these kids don't have a playground. But they have so much fun. You can see it in their faces. I remember back to my childhood, when my sister and I would play with a simple blanket on the floor or have that blanket draped over chairs and pretend it was a house because my parents couldn't afford to buy us toys.

My favorite part about being with the kids is that they always aske me to sing. My first day, they sang for me after I sang them the national athem, which i had to make up words b/c i hadn't sung it since 8th grade. The kids started singing Jesus Loves Me, and they were surprised to see me joining in. It brought me back to VBS all over again. We went through "Making Melodies", "Deep deep", "who's the king of the mountain" just everything! When I looked out the door, there was a crowd of little children from the baby class gathered at the entrance at Standard 7 belting out. By the time i was in 5th or 6th grade, I was embarrassed to sing those songs. These kids thought they were great even though they will go on to highschool soon. The beauty of simplicity. I have not come formally on a mission trip here, but seeing that Kenya is mostly Christian, I have been talking about the bible with them. They are curious to know what I personally believe in.

Actually, this whole experience has taught me that I can have control over a class of highschoolers in the future. Although I am teaching standard 7 and 8, most of the kids are the age of sophomores and juniors in high school. I connect with them well, and they make me laugh. It was so funny, they all wanted me to do the splits. And after I did, this kid claimed he could do one also. Something caught my attention outside, anad when I turned my head around, the kid had propped his shoe at his knee and bent his leg so he had done the "splits". We all laughed for quite a long time. I'm more confident with working in highschool now. Yay!

Meghan ( found out that's the spelling) came back from Uganda, finally. She arrived at 5 AM and was sleepnig when I left for school. I hope it won't be as lonely here as it has kinda been this past weekend.

Again, it's getting dark and I want to get bananas before I go back home. I miss everybody back home.
Becky

Connections and Ties with Obama

I feel connected with the new president.

From the first day I was here, I discovered an Obama craze. Other volunteers came back one morning to show off "Obama gum". We see posters of him everywhere, his face on city busses, even entire 20 min news segments dedicated to him. Yesterday, Sharon's niece, Doreen, and I walked to Nakumat, which is a large store similar to Walmart. There is no bargaining, just straight out prices. There was a book store that had prices actually comparable to Borders. In other words, ridiculously expensive. I saw Obama's first book, and embarrassingly I admit that I do not remember the title. Well Doreen knew that it was back at home. I picked up the book last night, and have just finished it.

I've had a lot of doubts of our new president, and I'm not going to start a big political discussion here, but now I understand why he is such a craze here. He is an Obama, from the Luo clan. His family has considerable ties with Kenya.

As I read through his life, his childhood in Indonesia, his college years, working as an organizer in the South Side of Chicago, his journey back to Kenya, I had a huge emotional stirring. This man seeked to find out and iron all the kinks in his identity. What is he? White? Black? What? I find the same questions rise up in me, as I find myself amongst a sea of dark skinned people.

When I got here, it startled to me to see such a resemblace with Trinidad and Tobago. But the more and more I have experienced Nairobi, I am reminded more and more of--unexpectedly--Korea. Why Korea? The market I visited yesterday. The stories of Sharon's childhood walking 24 miles a day to go to school. The sights of people selling slippers and underwear out in the middle of the street--items that I cringed to see in Chicago out of embarrassment, but now is such a normal observance here. Ugali, a boiled corn flour mixture, which reminds me of dduk, a Korean dessert. It has the same consistency, it fulfills a similar role in Kenyan peoples' tradition as much as rice balls right after the Korean War. Just as my parents survived off of rice balls and kimchi, the Kenyans have their equivalent of Ugali balls and collard greens. I'm eating the same biscuits and cracker like snacks that I will find in Korean marts in the US.

The more I see these resemblences, the more I feel like I need to give Korea another chance. The only time I've been to Korea was before high school, for two weeks. I've even repressed the exact year, and most memories because the whole experience is not a positive one. Koreans are... racist, even racist to Koreans that are not native to the homeland. I felt hurt, misplaced among family members that carry the same fantasies and myths of America as much as those who don't have any family abroad.

Yes, I know that Korea has changed, for my father could not pick out any of the same things as when he was a child. Although I have resolved to construct my identity has a Christian, I do know that it is important to know and meet my family back in Korea....

--------------------------------

My experience here is turning out not to be what I expected, to some level. It is truly a blessing to be here; although, I did not know that I would be placed in Nairobi. In other words, I do not know what it is like to live out in the country, before the city started to bloom. Yet, it is still Kenya.

There is a start desparity between the rich and the poor, underfunded schools, people starving to get by. The roads aren't paved, and as a result, all my shoes have a rich mahagony-orange layer that replaces the bottoms of my shoes. a lot of what i see, if i am not careful, will instill in me feelings of when I think about inner city Chicago. But what you don't see right away is that these people still have hope. Everybody I have met so far have some understanding that poverty is an invented concept. Yes there has been poverty even when the Maasai were fully respected, before the "white man" came and colonized Kenya. But that was the life they knew. They have not given up, and I have met countless numbers of people that have worked out of the cycle of poverty, something that has engrained itself in the minds of Americans.

What bothers me is that I keep trying to call Kenyans "African Americans". Shoot, they've never even been to the states before. When I see this dark colored group in front of me, I think of the African American friends I had in kindergarten, those living the stereotypical life from the projects. But no, these people are Kenyans. They are different. These people are mostly just as naiive about America, assuming that every single person is well off. As soon has a ntaive spots a Mzundo, prices are hiked up and favors are expected. I mean, why not have these stereotypes? It is human nature. But sometimes I want them to know that America is not as cracked as it seems to be.

Well tomorrow is my first day with the children. I want to give my all to them. I don't think I'll devour books as fast as I did this weekend. I finished that book so fast, because I devoted all my time to it. No, if I can , I want to play with the children from the school and the children I met in the apartment next to me. Rita, age 8; her sister age 2; her friend age 5. Sadly I don't remember the other two childrens' names. They are so beautiful, so content stuck playing hide and go seek in the gated parking lot.

The beautiful thing about this city is that I feel hope. I feel this sense that the people have some source of inspiration, that they won't be like they are forever. I can only pray that I might be able to play some role in furthering their dreams.

Until then, rest well America.
Becky

Learning Flexibility

What a day! Right now I'm semi settled into my host family's home. My luggage will be picked up tomorrow at 10 AM, so it'll be quite a long time since I've changed clothes... although everybody understands.

My "mom" is named Sharon. She works as some sort of consultant, from her home. I'm rooming with a girl named Megan, who is from Toronto, Canada. She's been in Africa from February, and is staying for another 6 weeks. She was actually supposed to leave today, but decided that she couldn't go yet.

I wonder if I can stay abroad for that long, in a place so far from home. I understand maybe studying abroad in Europe, but Africa is so different. Europe is more similar to America, if you know what I mean. But I know for sure that I can stay for a month here better than a couple years ago. 10 days in Trinidad and Tobago was very hard for me. But I'm much more comfortable now, less spoiled in a way. I'm OK with the bathrooms, the different food. I'm so glad I went to T.and.T even though it was a hard trip for me.

So I signed up for the orphanage program, but they had me down for teaching. I was confused at first, because they hadn't honored my request for orphanage work. But when I talked to Megan, I found out the school I'm helping out at, New Fedeli, is severely understaffed. My heart reached out for those children, and I've decided to stay. I'll be able to teach math and science, basically anything I want. It'll be a great experience, and it'll help me gather stories for my future job.

The ironic part about this trip is that I've met someone from my home area here. She actually went to Stevenson Higschool. She's also Korean, and her name is Rebecca. What a small world! I didn't expect to meet anyone from home, much less some one from Stevenson, and even much less, someone Korean. It's cool, but ironic.

I pray for Megan, because she's got a mild strain of Malaria. I just found out that the weekly pills I've gotten for myself are not as good, but I hope and pray for my own health. I'm so thankful that I've gotten here safely, and that at least my luggage is found and on its way.

Over the weekend, I'm going to get my "mom" more and get to know my way around. Hopefully it won't be too muddy on the roads, although I don't mind.

I also picked up some more swahili

sawa means OK
asanti means Thank you

Tonight will be my first experience sleeping in a mosquito net. I don't want to get Malaria. Take care everyone.

Becky

I'M HERE!!!

So after a very long time on uncomfortable plane rides, I have made it into Nairobi, Kenya. I can't believe I'm here!

I'm actually really lucky, because I barely made it to my second plane. I arrived in Heathrow, London at 9:30. I got off the plane at about 9:45, and I got through security at 9:55-- boarding closed at 10 AM. I BARELY made it. Phew! The second plane ride was much more comfortable because there was nobody sitting next to me. It was a three person row, and I met some one who attends Baylor University. She was on her way to Tanzania, for a mission trip.

Although I arrived safely to Kenya, apparently my luggage has not. I'm going on past 48 hours without brushing my teeth, which is a first. I really hope the luggage comes in tonight. It's kind of embarrassing walking around in my care bears pajama pants, even though I never wore them to go to sleep back at home.

I slept over night at a temporary host home. My "mama host" 's name is Grace. She lives with her cousin, Monica, and orphan named Tony, and her son, Roy. He is so beautiful. Roy is mesmerized my long black hair and glasses. He also tried to eat my bag. I want to take him home with me!

In addition to being somewhat jet lagged, I couldn't sleep past 6:30 AM here because dogs started barking, roosters started crowing, and car alarms started going off from about 3 AM. To be honest, it reminds me about Trinidad and Tobago. A LOT. The houses are the same pastel color, the ruffly curtains. Currently I'm in a nicer area, but I can very well be placed in a much more rustic host home after orientation. I liked how the morning started off, with a bunch of other volunteers getting up because of "nairobi's symphony". I drank a really good cup of Chai Tea and we got to know one another. Two guys are from Utah, one from Ohio just finishing up his first year in medical school. I bunked with a researcher from Boston, and the two that bunked next to me are nurses in Florida. There's another girl from Sweden. Everybody was or is going to be involved with the HIV/ AIDS program here, while the Utah guys and I will be doing orphanage work.

I haven't had a fresh cup of water since going through security at Ohare. We talked a bit comparing bucket showers to cold showers, and such. After using the bathroom, I pleasantly discovered that the water wasn't running in the morning, hence the hand sanitizer next to the sink. It's a lot different from home, but I'm glad I have experience from Trinidad and Tobago. That trip really prepared me for this, I can tell. There's "African Time" here too, just as there is "Korean time" and "Tobaga time".

Orientation is today, which I'm excited about. I want to know where I'll be placed, my host family, and all that. I found out it's 1 shilling per minute to be online, and in the morning, it's actually half a shilling per minute. And about 70 shillings is a dollar. So being online is definitely available.

Well I'm off now, we're supposed to get picked up for orientation pretty soon.

Jambo, every one!
Becky

Departure Day

It always seems like the day before/ day of a big trip is full of obstacles.

As most of you know, I'm an avid runner. Currently, I've been injured since March with feet problems. The doctor diagnosed it with Morton's Neuroma, but I'm not sure about that anymore.

I have this baby blanket that I've slept with for God knows how long. My parents have been trying to get me away from it for the longest time. Well since moving back, my mom had taken the blanket and had "thrown it away". I was really upset, telling her that she could at least place it in a special drawer if she really want me to stop sleeping with "Blankie". She gave in and returned the blanket to me.

My mom is a very observant person. She then took my feet into her hands and looked at them, even though I told her that my feet were dirty. Nonsense, she said, you're still my baby. I'm still her 19 year old baby. Then she noticed that my feet were extremely swollen where I've been hurting--it looked bad. I had never noticed because I typically wear socks. Maybe she's making a bigger deal than she should, but then she made an appointment to see a doctor, TODAY. She kept saying that I might not be able to go to Kenya and all that.

I know that I'll still go. I mean, although it's been extremely hard not being able to run and walk for long periods of time, but I know I must go. I just hope things aren't as serious as my mom made it seem.

Similar things happened when I was about to leave for Trinidad and Tobago back during summer of 2007. I just have to get over these things and focus on what lies ahead. I'm kind of just hoping this problem will solve itself. I mean, your body is an amazing machine. It fixes injuries on it's own through time.... right?

I just can't believes it's today. It's insane that all this time has passed. It'll be an extremely long trip, but it's all worth it. Actually, I'm terrified of the trip, but I'll just have to get up every half hour or so. wow that's 15-16 times. i'm going to make sure I have a seat inthe aisle.

The next time I write, I'll actually be in the country! =)

Becky

Airplane Scare

I'm finally back at home. After a couple days of packing up my belongings in an endless supply of cardboard cubes, my parents arrived 8 PM last night. We stuffed it into a small moving truck attached to our van, and finally arrived in Wilmette after midnight.

Before I left, I made sure I said my good-byes to Bloomington-Normal. When I left this place for winter break, I wasn't sad because I knew I'd be returning in 3 weeks. But I woke up yesterday realizing that it'll be mid August before I see the area again. It seems as though I'm leaving B-Norm as soon as it's becoming beautiful. The Constitution Trail was an integral part of my life this year--I don't know what I'm going to do without it. It kept me sane. Funny that a road of concrete through trees and parks helped me, but it did.

Today was pretty stressful regarding plane tickets. My dad noticed that I had only an hour between my flight to London and then to Nairobi. After staying on hold for over 40 minutes trying to get ahold of British Airways, I was relieved to hear that I wouldn't have to go through check in again. The flights are "married", and so I'll be going to and fro from the same terminal. PHEW!!

I'm not a fan of flights. There's only one pleasant experience I remember, which was when I was too tired to feel the plane lift off. I slept through the entire thing and didn't believe my parents when they said we had arrived. I just didn't grow up with them My first vacation was when I was 10 years old, to Niagra Falls. Up until then, I nagged my mother every time I saw an airplane. "Amma, when am I going to ride one? I want to fly to!" Psh, fly shmly. I will be riding 8.5~ hours to London, then the same amount to Nairobi. I'm bringing tons of books and hopefully they'll play good movies.

Watching Gilmore Girls has reminded of the bookworm I used to be as a little girl. I'd BECOME someone else, able to go places that I couldn't go. Instead of remembering that I had a 2 year old brother to watch, and a sister one year younger that couldn't read yet, I'd read and read. Then it just kinda waned off as I became bombarded with books in highschool. Now I'm picking up reading for pleasure again. I mean, although Rory is a fictional character, she is somewhat.... real..... I'm just going to pretend she is somewhat because she manages to read for pleasure as well as read for school.

The thought of language comes up. Right now I'm reading "Chocolat". Although I absolutely ADORE the French language, I had started to get sad not learning Spanish for my later teaching experiences. But reading this book made me realize that I got so much more from the book by knowing the language. French is so beautiful--it encompasses the culture, the art, the history of France. My mother said the first thing the Japanese did when colonizing Korea, was to forbid using the Korean language. I can't imagine it being illegal to speak English. What a night mare!

And speaking of Spanish, I've started watching Gilmore Girls with Spanish subtitles. That'll help a little bit. haha I hope I can pick up Swahili!!!!

Well before I babble on further, I'll be off. JUST 3 MORE DAYS FROM TOMORROW!!!

Becky

Yellow Fever

So I got the yellow fever vaccine. I'm really glad I got it today because I found out that the certificate becomes valid 10 days after getting it. In reality, I'm entering Kenya 9 days after, but the doctor thinks it'll be ok. I mean, if I have to sit at the airport until midnight, then so be it.

As I was sitting there reading the Yellow Fever handout from the clinic, I couldn't help but get scared. There was a slim to no chance of me getting sick, but the reality of Yellow Fever is devastating. I'm glad I don't feel sore or anything right now, because a lot of people feel that after vaccines. The shot was also given at a weird spot. Instead of my muscle, it went into the fatty tissue that rests on the back of my arm. I HATE SHOTS.

Funny thing is, the travel clinic had called to reschedule my appointment until tomorrow. I was originally going to be at Shirk by 11 AM (IWU's rec center), but ended up falling asleep. At 11:30, my cell rang and the clinic wanted me to get there right then. I took the bus and got there by noon. It's so cool how God made everything work out. As I was waking up, I was wondering why I hadn't gotten myself to get up, but if I had, then the vaccine would have taken place tomorrow. AND I got to shop at Target for groceries.

As much as I'm ready to go to Kenya, I have a lot of closure left in Normal, IL. I have to pack up all my stuff in this apartment, and then pack up again for Kenya. And with this closure, I'm nervous for what to expect. I'm not sure if they've ever seen an Asian woman before. What are the stereotypes there? Do I have to be even more careful than Caucasian woman? I can just anticipate for what is to come. I don't even know where I'll be located yet, although I'm going to request RURAL Nairobi. (Nairobi is nicknamed Nairobbery and that's where all the political unrest would happen if it did)

I have begun praying for the people I will meet in Kenya. Just one more week from tomorrow. Yay!

10 Day Count Down

I can't believe there's only 10 more days until I leave for Kenya. This seems so surreal--I'm going to be in AFRICA!!!!



Kenya has always held a mystical place in my heart. Not only have I known many people who have volunteered in Kenya, all the elite distance runners hail from here. Of course, I do not expect to see or meet any of them, but the fact that I'll be on the same ground that they train on is amazing.



I'm kind of scared. This isn't going to be the first time away from home or living away from friends and family, but this is going to be the first time I'll be alone in a foreign country. Thankfully one of the official languages is English, but I don't know much of Swahili other than "Jambo", which means "hello". I hope I can pick up at least some Swahili, even though a month is a very short time to learn a language.

Meanwhile, I have a life to finish up and smooth off before I leave for 4 weeks. I still have finals and classes to conclude, although taking classes at the local community college was a nice break from grueling and stressful academics. I learned a LOT this semester, just in a different way.

I tried to pick out pretty custom layouts and stuff for my blog but I think it's just going to stay this way. My computer is so old, it can't handle firefox and all that. It already feels like I've wasted time looking for programs that'll be compatible for my ancient screen.

Again, I can't believe it's so soon. This trip wasn't as hard to plan since it's by myself, I'm amazed that my finances and schedule is all working out. It means a lot to me, like something that God really wants me to do.

I don't know how often I'll update in Kenya, but this is a good start. I have a lot of feelings leading up to this event, so might as well keep record of it.

In Christ,
Becky